


Hold My Hand and Don't Let Go

by Daichan795



Category: Kekkaishi
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Baker Yoshimori, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Gen doesn't do emotions, Gen needs a hug, Long One Shot, M/M, Pining, Ryo is best sister, Yoshimori is too pure for this world, Yoshimori needs a hug, both have family issues, but he's still and idiot, depressed thoughts, someone help these boys, tattoo artist Gen, tooth rottening fluff, with a touch of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 05:42:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13160469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daichan795/pseuds/Daichan795
Summary: Gen really wanted to hate the baker next door. With the bright decor and obnoxious yelling, it really stained the cool feeling of his own parlour. But dammit, the idiot had to go and actually be endearing.In which Yoshimori is the cute but idiotic baker next door and Gen is the grumpy tattooist that sadly(gladly) has to deal with him.A Christmas gift for a special friend :D





	Hold My Hand and Don't Let Go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [terradarkblighter](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=terradarkblighter).



> Dedicated to my best friend Lucy aka Terradarkblighter who loves Kekkaishi and was sad that there were not many fics in the fandom. So to the anime and fandom she loves so much, I give you this tattoo au that literally nobody asked for. I hope you enjoy ^^

**Also to Lucy, okay listen, I literally wrote and edit this thing in two days because I'm a procrastinating bitch who only works well when the deadline is due so please forgive me if there are mistakes that I missed. And to all my readers, please sit back and enjoy ^^**

 

Being a tattooist was not really Gen’s first choice as a life career. The thought of needles stabbing skin and the immense pressure of knowing that the ink itself was permanent scared him to death as a child the first time he learned about tattoos from his elder sister, Ryo (who shared her interest in getting one to her curious little brother after he stumbled upon her research for a parlour). 

 

Gen never had any career in mind to begin with, he was not in a state of mind to even think about it. He stumbled through his child and teens years blindly, his outlook on life dimming with each passing moment, blending colours of grey and white till only his beloved sister’s company brought him any joy. 

 

His cold and apathetic attitude scared away any potential friends, teachers and staff deemed him a delinquent the moment they lied eyes on him, and Gen couldn't find it in himself to care. He had no specific interest that held his attention or he shared with his peers, excelling in academic studies with such ease that students and teachers questioned his credibility. He was completely alienated. 

 

Sure, loneliness scratched at him from time to time (it built heavily in his stomach and echoed hollowly in his mind. He couldn't breathe), but he learned to squash such pesky emotions with even stronger ones. Like hate and anger. Hate and anger towards his family and the people around him for looking down on him. Fighting and destruction was all he knew. It didn't look like he had to worry over life paths or goals, seeing as the only path in sight was a ticket straight to prison. 

 

Then his elder sister finally got a tattoo. 

 

She excitingly pulled him in her apartment during his visit and rolled up her left sleeve to reveal it, nearly smacking Gen with the quick movement. The tattoo lied on her upper arm, covered by plastic wrapping to allow it to heal but clear enough for the ink to show. 

 

Two glowing green eyes of a black wolf greeted him with such intensity that he actually took a step back in surprise. The gaze held no malice or harshness, yet it demanded respect worthy of its stature. Below the wolf flew an elegant hummingbird, its little wings fluttering in such a way that it looked like the bird was barely learning how to fly. 

 

It was an odd tattoo and he couldn't figure out what it meant or why Ryo chose such a design, but he couldn't deny that the tattoo was beautiful. He wanted to trace his finger over the lines, feel the smoothness of the work and look at every excruciating detail. For the first time, he felt something warm bubble inside him. 

 

That day, Ryo took his hands into her own and smiled at him and asked him if he wanted to know what it meant. “When I first started looking for a tattoo, I actually wanted something feminine, like a pretty rose or a butterfly,” she laughed after he nodded, “but nothing felt right. So I held back for a while and thought it over. I realised that I wanted it to mean something to me, something I can look back on with awe and pride. So I chose the one thing I cared about.” 

 

She smiled wide, threading her hand through Gen’s short hair and ruffled it. “You.” 

 

Gen lifted his head and looked at her with such disbelieving eyes that she laughed. Ryo threaded their hands together and leaned over, bumping Gen’s forehead with her own. “The wolf’s eyes represents your intensity and strong will. People look at this creature with fear, but even they can't deny his beauty and power. A lone wolf looking for somewhere to belong. And the hummingbird,” Ryo squeezed his hands. “represents the will to overcome difficult times.” 

 

Gen flinched at those words, snapping his panic gaze to his sisters calm one. “I know things are not going well. But I know you can get through it. I wanted this tattoo to forever be embedded on me because I want you, my dear brother, to know that no matter what you decide to do, I believe in you. I will always believe in you.” 

 

She left go of his shaky hands and dragged him to a hug, gently pushing his head to her shoulder. Gen couldn't remember a time he cried as much as he did that day. Ryo’s belief in him awoke something inside him, something wild and primal, and he immediately set out to his library to look up tattoos and art books. His childhood fear faded away at each flip of a page, soaking up all the information he could get his hands on. 

 

School was but a speck in his mind, spending his free time practicing drawing and hounding random tattoo parlours to give him an internship or an apprentice position. His harsh appearance and words did not gain him any favours and he more than once was kicked out of tattoo establishments. His reputation worsen with each attempt, rumours circling around of his ill intent to the point where he couldn’t leave school without a confrontation from a teacher or a wanna-be delinquent that wanted to fight the ‘best.’

 

Any other time Gen would have brushed them off or beat the other student to submission, but instead he stood his ground and denied their accusations head on. Fights were harder to avoid but he tried to control his anger and flee from the attacker when possible. Gen wanted to change. For his sister, for himself, and for his new purpose in life. He did not want to be known for creating destruction anymore. 

 

Finally, during his final year of high school a tattoo shop gave him a chance. It was run by Atora Hanashima, a fierce woman who, upon meeting Gen during one of his random demands for a position, took one look at him and deemed him worthy of being her apprentice. She threw him into the tattoo life almost immediately, forcing him to draw picture after picture til his fingers ached and punished him if he so much as smudged the graphite. He painstakingly built his first tattoo machine on her request, which he was proud of, all for her to destroy it and demand him to build it again.

 

And again. 

 

And again. 

 

Until he knew his machine inside and out. Her teaching methods were brutal, absolute hell, to the point he couldn't disobey her voice the moment she commanded him. But Gen was grateful to her. Grateful for teaching him and pushing him beyond his limits. Because she also believed in him. She was the first person Gen had ever respected as a mentor and, after introducing her to his sister, as family. 

 

Gen decided soon after to dropout of school and dedicate his full time to his study under Hanashima. Ryo merely sighed upon hearing the news, giving him a good talking to for his rash actions. Then pulled him into a hug and wished him luck. 

 

With years of studying and working in Hanashima’s parlour, Gen began to make a name for himself. His elegant movement of his hands and the utter concentration he gives to his work captured many clients attention, and they showered him with praise. Not to mention, no matter what the tattoo was or what style they asked for, he made each and every one beautiful. 

 

He was content to stay there at Hanashim’s parlour, it felt safe and familiar. He never thought about leaving his tiny haven. Then Hanashima sat him down one day and brought up the thought of opening up his own parlour. She told him she found a little spot at the end of town near his old school that had a building for sale, for a good price too since it did not gain much attention for potential consumers. 

 

His first reaction was to decline it, he expressed he had no intention of ever leaving her or the parlour. It was inconceivable and he already made up his mind to shooting down the idea before it nestled in. Yet his mentor ignored his words, took his hands into her own, and squeezed. And suddenly Gen could only listen. 

 

“I know you're content here and trust me when I say I'm not too keen on letting you go either. But this place can't offer you anything anymore. You grow as a tattooist everyday, you need a place where you can make it your own and not limit yourself. And this place,” she breathed out a laugh, “Is not that place. It can't grow alongside you. I know you can make it on your own. I want to see what you can create with these hands.” 

 

Hanashima squeezed their hands tightly and the only thing he could do was squeeze back. 

 

With his mentor and sister support, he pulled together his savings and bought the building, officially leaving Hanashima’s tattoo parlour. The building itself needed a lot of work and he had to rebuild his reputation as a respectful tattoo artist. He did just that. 

 

Within a few weeks after his grand opening, people began to take notice of him and gave him a shot. New clients came flying in, bringing in old ones after they caught wind of his new independence. The community accepted him as their number one tattoo parlour and walk ins became a normal thing. Gen was proud of what he accomplished. 

 

He stayed in that little spot for about two years, not once dealing with other businesses or people wanting to buy the abandoned building next to him. Two years of comfortable solitude. He was content, and this time he wanted to keep it that way. 

 

Then his two year solitude suddenly came to end. 

 

That fateful day, Gen finished off a client’s tattoo and took a well deserved break, the tattoo itself taking a few hours to finish the line-work and start in the colouring. He waved goodbye to the client as they left, reminding them of their next appointment to finish off the rest of the ink-work. He loitered around in front of his shop, sipping cold water to freshen up after having to sit in a stiff position for so long. 

 

It was after he finished his drink that some moving vans and large trucks began to park in front of his lot, workers and movers alike bursting through their vehicles and moving boxes to and fro from the building next door. Gen merely looked on in slight discomfort, not use to so many people dominating his space at one time. 

 

“So someone’s finally moving in, huh?” He muttered in distaste, glaring at the amount of work tools and safety equipment lying around the place. 

 

Looks like there was going to be some renovation made to the place. That meant loud noise. His glare hardened, causing some workers to look at him warily as they shuffled in boxes and building equipment.  He tried to ignore them as he continued on with his day, writing down appointments and sketching down tattoo ideas to use as examples for clients when they were unsure about what they wanted. 

 

It worked slightly for the first few days, the only disturbance were trucks coming through and the loud voices of the haulers and workers bustling about outside. It offered some form of distraction for his clients from focusing on the pain as he inked up their bodies so he tried not to mind too much. 

 

Then the trouble started. They began to renovate. 

 

Gen grit his teeth in irritation as the sound of drills and saws echoed across the lot, bouncing on his walls and pounding on his head. With all that racket, he was afraid people were going to be put off and decide to not have him as their tattooist. Luckily he still was able to keep some business, grateful for his client’s trust in his abilities to endure the loud noises. 

 

He knew the workers were only doing their job but that didn't stop him from taking pleasure in scaring the workers, swinging a (unplugged) needle back and forth between fingers in an intimidating manner every time he's on break. It looked like it was effective in a way, the workers began to move quicker and more efficient, staying far away from Gen as if he was the plague. 

 

In the end, the renovations lasted for a month. Cleaners and painters appeared to be the only people left in building, shuffling around furniture and moving in what looked to be kitchen supplies. Gen never did get a chance to catch a glimpse of the new owner, but with everything he had to endure he hoped he didn’t see the bastard any time soon. 

 

Faith never did show him kindness. 

 

Opening day for whatever-the-shop-is had arrived and it was surprisingly packed. A long line extended from the entrance and wrapped around the whole section of Gen’s street. He probably would have been impressed if not for the fact that it blocked the entrance to his own building. 

 

“...Is this for real?” He growled lowly, standing helplessly in front of the large crowd blocking his way from opening up his own goddamn door. 

 

The people in front of him paid no attention to him, chatting excitingly with one another to pass the time waiting in line. He stood there like an idiot, glaring at the line as it slowly moved along. He managed to squeeze himself through a small gap of teens (who were too focused on their phones to realise the line moved), jangling his keys furiously as he unlocked the door and all but flung it open, watching in satisfaction as it smack some of the people in the face. 

 

He rubbed his temples in aggravation, ignoring the annoying crowd in front as he tried to fall back into routine. He set out to clean his equipment and check his schedule for appointments, ready to endure the day the best he could. The first client of the day came in on time, obviously excited over the commotion in front and babbled to Gen about it with exaggerated hand motions and a loud voice. 

 

“Wow, I didn't know people would have this much excitement over a bakery! It must be something, maybe I'll check it out after I'm done here.” They mused. 

 

Gen merely sighed. So it's a bakery? Why would they put a bakery next to a tattoo parlour? Why in this part of town? Honestly what is this person thinking? 

 

Gen guided the client to his chair and prepared their arm, making sure the skin is undamaged before applying the stencil. It started to become quiet, the only sounds were the whirls of the machine and the occasional gasp of pain, and Gen started to feel relaxed. This was his element. No more crowds. No more blasted bakeries and their incompetent owner. 

 

Then a smell reached his nose. He paused in his work and scrunched up his nose, lifting his head and looked around suspiciously. He didn't own any fresheners and he disliked wearing cologne, having growing up with a very sensitive nose. Where is it coming from? 

 

The client perked up at Gen’s pause and opened their mouth to question him but stopped as well, taking a long whiff of the room. “Uwaa, you can smell the pastries from here! They smell really good.” 

 

They were right, the sweet smell practically engulfed the room, leaving behind promises of a very delicious experience. The client suddenly got up from the chair. “W-What? Hey!”Gen started, “We’re not done here!”

 

“I know but the line is getting larger and I really want to try some of the pastries before they close! I'll call to reschedule another appointment and I'll even pay a fee for leaving so soon. Have a good day!” They hurried out the door before he could protest, the door shutting close with an audible click. 

 

That was the last straw. 

 

Gen tried to be understanding, knowing that the person had barely moved in and was opening up their own business. But obviously the owner was an idiot who has no idea how to run one, seeing as he couldn't even organise a damn grand opening properly or at least show some courteous to their neighbours. Now Gen’s work was being affected. 

 

He would not stand for this any longer, if he has to share space with a nuisance then he better let them know the rules. 

 

Hours passed and Gen watched the line slowly dwindled away, his anger rising with each passing person. Finally, the bakery seemed to be closing as people began to exit the shop, most carrying pastry boxes carefully in their arms. Gem lingered near the entrance, waiting for the final person to leave so he can make his move. 

 

He dragged his eyes over the establishment in distaste, blues and purples assaulted his vision. ‘Kekkaishi’ lied bold above his head, words curling in a way that resembled a body of a fox. It was eye catching and appealing to look at, but Gen was too blinded by his rage to appreciate the decor. 

 

He kept his gaze low as the final person left the shop, breathing in deeply. It’s time. 

 

He gripped the handled door and will all the strength he could muster flung the door open, satisfied with the loud bang that rang through the room. A figure flinched at the sound a few feet away from him behind the counter, holding a broom tightly to their chest in surprise. But Gen took no heed to the person and carried on to what he wanted to do. 

 

And that's to put them in their place.

 

“Hey, I’m Gen, I own the tattoo parlour next door. I would have liked to have been civil with you but all I’ve seen so far is a complete idiot running a business. First of all,” He started, glaring harshly at the figure behind the counter, “Know how to run a damn grand opening, the line outside was completely unsupervised and caused disruption. Namely to me since I couldn’t go into my own building. Second,” Gen began to step closer to the person in a slow pace, hoping to appear more intimidating as he spoke. “A proper owner would check all the ventilation systems in their own building before even trying to open up. My whole parlour now stinks of pastries. Sweets aren't really my thing so I would appreciate it if my place didn't smell of a damn sugary bakery. Hopefully you'll be less of an idiot next time.” Gen stopped and breathe, feeling the anger and frustration slowly leak out of his body. 

 

God that felt good. Hopefully it would stick in the idiot's head. 

 

He finally took a better look at the obviously incompetent owner, and he paused. They...looked nothing like he was expecting. They weren't a senile old woman with too much time on their hands or a snooty up-tight baker who boasted about how their pastries were the best. 

 

Instead it was man who looked around Gen’s age, perhaps a little younger, with a round face and long spiky hair. Large brown eyes looked over at him in surprised at his outburst, the broom slanted in their grip as they processed the other’s words. 

 

Then those startled brown eyes melted into fiery slits, and Gen suddenly felt uneasy. “...You asshole.” 

 

The harsh tone actually caught Gen off guard and he flinched back as the other boy  _ jumped over _ the counter, broom still in hand, and glared at him. “What gives you the right to come here and yell at me, huh? Yeah, I'm sorry about troubling you an’ all but maybe you could have told me so without, oh I dunno, being a total asshole about it?” 

 

He flicked the broomstick and jabbed Gen’s shoulder with it, “Don't act so high and mighty, you probably messed up a lot too the first time! For your information, I do know how to run a business and you'll see yourself when people start coming to my place instead of your stinking tattoo parlour. I'm not going to stand here and take your bullshit! In fact…” 

 

The owner was up to his face at this point, and despite the other being shorter than Gen, he felt himself intimidated from those fiery eyes. 

 

Then suddenly the air escaped through his teeth as his body flung backwards, stumbling out of the shop and landing ungracefully on is bottom. Gen groaned, nursing the dull pain in his stomach and looked up, catching the owner’s foot slowly falling back down onto the floor. 

 

“Come  back when you're less of an asshole, Asshole.” The bakery door slammed shut, the ‘open’ sign flipping to ‘close’ in a quick flash, and Gen was left sitting on the pavement completely dumbfounded. 

 

He was just kicked out. Like actually kicked out! He couldn't believe it. 

 

He stood up slowly, swallowing down his surprise and disbelief. Not once had someone talked to him in such away, all being too scared to anger him, even less actually being able to kick him. He should be burning with rage at his treatment, probably file a complaint and sue the damn bastard. 

 

But he didn't. 

 

He tilted his head and peered into the window curiously. The guy was continuing to sweep the floor, though with much more vigor and seemed to be grumbling to themselves. He stood there and watched for a few minutes, pondering over what had happened. Then he turned around and trotted back into his own shop without a word. He didn't feel angry. He didn't feel frustrated or insulted. 

 

He didn't know what he felt.

  
  


OoOoOoOoOoOo

  
  


It's been a couple days since their terrible first encounter and the guilt finally began to eat at Gen. Shit, he messed up didn't he? He let his annoyance build up and control his judgment. 

 

The guy didn't even mess up that bad, and it was their first time after all so he should have gave them a break. In fact, the guy was able to organise the line and traffic of people away from Gen’s shop, even managing to attract potential customers for him who noticed his shop during the wait. 

 

“I was too harsh wasn't I?” He mumbled to himself during his break, flicking a quick glance towards the bakery. The young man was currently cleaning his windows and fixing their display case, successfully avoiding looking anywhere but the tattoo parlour. 

 

They opened and closed around the same time and yet the other wouldn't so much as spare him a glance. Gen didn't know why, but that bothered him. A lot. 

 

He shouldn't even care! Let the guy brim with rage! He's use to people disliking him so this guy was no problem at all. Yeah, that's right, it's not Gen’s fault the guy took it personally. 

 

He swiftly turned around and gripped his door’s handle, satisfied with his reasoning. Yet he didn't push forward. He stood motionlessly, staring blankly at his hand. He really shouldn't care what the other thinks of him. But… 

 

He heard the soft chime of the bakery’s door bell open and suddenly the whole street was filled with the smell of sweets and warm pastries. The scent still made his nose wrinkle in distaste but he didn't feel annoyed like he was before. 

 

He took one last look at the bakery, so inviting and warm, that he broke. 

 

“...Dammit.” He swore as he crossed through the pavement and pushed open the bakery’s doors. 

 

The first thing he noticed that the bakery itself looked more like a little cafe than a bakery, small tables and chairs lied about with tiny bonsai trees as their centerpieces. Each table also had little figurines of monsters (from what Gen could see from his position), all different shapes and colours. 

 

Despite the theme of blues and the purples the bakery felt incredibly warm and comfortable. The mouth watering aroma of the pastries in the display cases itself made the wait worth it. Gen could tell from looking at the customers that they felt the same. 

 

He watched as the parents chatted to themselves and the children swarmed around the back of the bakery, plastering their hands on the glass squealing over whatever was on the other side. 

 

Curious, Gen trotted over and looked over. 

 

It was the owner decorating a cake. They had a look of determination, oblivious to his growing audience as he poured icing over the spinning cake. Each line of icing was precise, dissolving into beautiful patterns and intricate shapes. The splashes of colour did not clash nor looked odd, but instead they molded together and Gen’s couldn't tell where it started or where it ended. Steady hands danced across the surface of the cake, putting down figurines made out of modeling chocolate and sprinkling vanilla powder all around. The children cheered as he finished off the masterpiece by hanging small loops of icing on the edge of the cake, surprised the loops didn't tear off. It almost looked like the cake was floating. 

 

The young man stood back and admired his work, his eyes sparkling with joy and pride. And just like that, Gen knew he was wrong. Seeing this person decorate the cake was like the first time he saw his mentor ink a tattoo. She took her tools into her hands and Gen saw a picture come to life right before his eyes. Just like her, he could see the passion flowing from the man in front him. Blinding and pure. It made him itch for his own tools. He wanted to create a masterpiece too. 

 

He tightened his hands into his fist, eyes wide and determined. He's going to make things right with this person. He has to. 

 

Gen moved closer to the glass window once the children dispersed, never allowing the other person from leaving his sight. He tapped on the glass lightly, hoping to catch their attention without disturbing the customers. Luckily the time of day was late so most of the people have already gotten their order and left, leaving behind a few stragglers and elderly couples. The tapping worked and the person finally noticed him. 

 

They stared at him in surprise before immediately dropping to look of distaste, making Gen wince. They sighed to themselves in annoyance before pointing to the left at the bakery’s back door, beckoning him with their other hand. Gen wasted no time in ushering around the counter and through the door, taking a moment to calm his thoughts. 

 

The young man greeted him with a raised eyebrow, arms crossed in front of his blue apron. A splatter of flour coated his right cheek and hair, most of it on his bangs that were tied up with a hair clip. They looked really cute at the moment and Gen didn't need help calming his thoughts anymore. He was completely blank. 

 

“Well, what the hell do you want.” The young man said, voice laced with suppressed annoyance, effectively breaking Gen from his trance and made him since at the other’s tone. “Did you come here to start something again? Because if you are, it's really a dick move to do so when there's still people in here.” 

 

Gen shook his head, forcing down the urge snap at the guy. This guy has the right to be angry, he reminded himself. “No, nothing like that.” He replied, though it came out more as a harsh whisper. Definitely not what he wanted. 

 

“Then what is it? I don't have all day-” 

 

“...ryy.” 

 

“What?” The young man questioned, dropping his hostile expression and looked up at Gen confusion. Gen breathed deeply, gritting his teeth. 

 

“I said I'm s-sorry. I shouldn't have said the things I said that day, it was your first day and I should have been more understanding. Even if you continue to hate me I really am s-sorry and would appreciate it if you gave me another chance as your new neighbour.” He managed out, looking anywhere but the baker. He's not use to apologising, he only ever apologised to his sister and even then it was shamefully littered with stammers and no eye contact. 

 

He could feel the other’s incredulous stare on his face and he tightened his fist in anticipation. The two stood there in silence and Gen felt himself sweat. 

 

“...Ah, welcome to the neighbourhood by the way…” He trailed off lamely, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Oh god, someone kill him. Gen was ready for the awkward silence to consume (and he accepted his fate) when he heard a laugh. He whipped around to see the other clutching his mouth as laughter spilled from his lips, body shaking from the effort. The giggles made Gen quirk his lips into a small smile. 

 

And he knew things were going to be okay. 

 

“Pfft...hahaha I-I really didn't expect that. I didn't think a hard ass like you would actually apologise.” They gasped, taking deep breaths to calm his onslaught of giggles. 

 

He finally stood up straight and hummed, lifting his hand to chin in thought as he gave Gen a once-look-over. “You're still a bastard, but seeing you try to say sorry is really satisfying.” He hummed again, lifting his free hand forward. “Alright, I forgive you. I'm Yoshimori Sumimura, proud owner of Kekkaishi bakery shop. It's nice to meet you.” 

 

‘Yoshimori’ smiled at him and Gen immediately liked it better than seeing him angry. Gen hesitantly took the welcoming hand and shook it firmly, feeling the nervousness and guilt melt away with each passing second. “Gen Shishio, though I guess you already knew that. Nice to meet you too.” 

 

Yoshimori’s hand was warm and incredibly soft, an unfamiliar feeling of peace enveloped him as he held it. He rubbed his thumb across the soft skin, mesmerised by the feeling it brought him. It bloomed inside his chest, foreigned, but incredibly addicting. 

 

“..Umm..” A small voice spoke and Gen violently snapped from his trance and broke the hold, shoving his burning hand into his pocket. 

 

Yoshimori merely quirked his head in confusion, hand still dangling in the air. 

 

“I-I should head back now, that's really all I wanted to say. See you around, I guess.” Gen murmured, not daring to look at Yoshimori face. He trekked across the bakery, ignoring on looker’s curious glances and sighed internally. God, could he be anymore of a creep? He practically molested the poor guy. 

 

His hand tingled, turning cold from the lost heat it just learned. He scowled to himself. There goes all his chances of making up. He just made it out the door when he felt the back of his shirt tugged. He turned his head and was surprised it was Yoshimori. 

 

Ah, he followed him out.

 

“...Ah.” Yoshimori breathed out, a light dust of pink bloomed on his once he realized what he did. He slowly let go of Gen’s shirt and looked down, obviously embarrassed. 

 

“I-I just wanted to let you know that I called a repairman to look at the ventilation. So don't worry, your place won't smell like a bakery anymore. Also, don't be shy and come back okay? Okay, right bye!” The door slammed shut, and with that Gen walked back to his parlour, Yoshimori’s burning face clearly seen from the glass door was etched into his memory.  

 

And the only thing he thought about was how fucked he is.

 

 

OoOoOoOoOoOo

 

 

After that fateful day, Gen’s relationship with Yoshimori got significantly better. They no longer ignored each other during opening times, Yoshimori would greet him with an easy grin and he gave the cheery boy a tired smile in return. Though the greeting always gave Gen energy for the day, filled with the image with the shorter boy’s pretty smile. 

 

Truth to his words, a repairman came by and fixed the ventilation and Gen’s parlour no longer smelled of the sugary treats. A few of his clients voiced their inferior opinion of missing the heavenly aroma but he merely ushered them to his chair and got to work. 

 

They were comfortable enough to visit each other's shop, Gen spending his time loitering around the tables admiring the decor and Yoshimori hopping around asking a bajillion questions about tattoos. They didn't do it often despite having similar opening and closing times,  their schedules were all over the place. Namely Gen’s whose whole schedule revolves around clients and the occasional drop ins. 

 

And Yoshimori seemed to have realised that because he never approached Gen first on his own and enthusiastically waved his hand if he does catch his eye. 

 

In a sense, Gen was glad for that. It allowed him to indulge in his new favourite pastime: Yoshimori watching. 

 

He would perch in front of his parlour during his break and watch the baker from his window. He knew it was creepy. He knew what he was doing was down right stalking. But he couldn't help it. He wanted to get to know him, both on how he's like with and without Gen around. 

 

And he did. 

 

He learned that Yoshimori was the definition of clumsiness, tripping over air every thirty minutes and had a one sided rivalry with his counters since he banged on it every time he walked by. It was quite entertaining watching Yoshimori juggle pastries early in the morning as he got ready to open up, barely managing from toppling over the cakes and pastries during restocking. Gen was amazed that he even kept himself alive. 

 

He also learned that Yoshimori was overly friendly with everyone, loudly greeting his customers and was not afraid to curse someone out if they were disrespectful. He was obviously liked in the community, despite only having been there for a couple of weeks. Strangers would hug him affectionately and ruffle his hair, smacking his head if he said something particularly stupid (which happened a lot, Gen might add) as if they were long time friends, but it was all in good fun they would laugh at his antics. 

 

Gen was a little happy that Yoshimori fit so well with the community. They were small and tucked away from major areas of the city, considered by some as the ‘bad side of town.’ But the people here were good people and took care of their own, and seeing them welcome in the bakery was a heartwarming sight. Although the constant touching irked him, he didn't make a fuss about it since Yoshimori seemed to be enjoying himself. 

 

However there was one person he didn't like coming and touching Yoshimori. He ‘met’ her during his watching, a young woman with a long brown ponytail and a flowing white robe walked into the bakery and yelled out Yoshimori’s name. Yoshimori flailed violently at hearing his name, obviously surprised at seeing her there. They must of known each other as he went to greet her with a smile, calling out her name as well. 

 

‘Tokine’ looked crossed at him, shoving his hand away when he tried to give her a hug and began what looked like a lecture (Yoshimori drooped more and more with each word she spoke). She must have said something unsavory after her lecture as Yoshimori immediately stood up straight, eyes closed off, and pulled up his finger in a shushing manner. 

 

He then went back behind the counter, completely ignoring her protest as he wrapped up the next customer’s order. Gen felt sick pleasure in seeing her frustrated, watching her bite her tongue so she wouldn’t cause a scene. She took the hint and left the shop in a huff, clearly unsatisfied with whatever conclusion they ended up with. 

 

Tokine tried a couple more times to talk to him over the past month, each time either being shooed off or ignored. Gen knew when to mind his own business, especially what looked like a childish dispute, but seeing such a serious face (dejected but stubborn) on Yoshimori’s face after every encounter felt incredibly wrong. So seeing her again that fine evening immediately made him sour. 

 

It was near closing times and Gen nearly finished his last client’s tattoo (koi fish swimming up the back, colouring growing dark the more they swam upward) when she appeared once again, white robes flowing with the mild wind as she waited at the bakery’s entrance. He clicked his tongue, wiping the tattoo gently before wrapping it in protective plastic. The transaction finished off in a breeze and the client left extremely satisfied, Gen sighing loudly after his doors closed. He cleaned up his area quickly before sitting in his favourite chair (up front with a clear view of the bakery), narrowing his eyes at seeing her still standing by the entrance. 

 

Unlike most times where she wore an irritated expression for even setting foot inside the bakery, she instead had a look of determination, hand on her hip as she waited for Yoshimori to close up. Whatever conversation she wanted to have was not going to be a pleasant one.  

 

The minutes passed and Yoshimuri finally emerged, whistling a little tune as he pulled out his keys. Tokine coughed loudly, catching his attention and the tune cut off immediately. 

 

“Oh, Tokine, hey!” He said, an easy smile appearing on his face “Have you came to finally try some of the pastries? Here, let me go whip something up real qui-” 

 

“No Yoshimori, I’m not here to eat your pastries. You know why I am.” She cut him off, her words smooth and straight to the point. Yoshimori’s face fell to a more stoic expression, his sigh loud and echoey in the deserted street. 

 

Gen perked up from his spot, reaching out and pulling his window open a tiny bit to hear more clearly. This would be the first time he’ll be hearing the argument in person. All of their dispute were inside the bakery, hushed tones and rushed whispers, never once being outside. He knows he really shouldn’t been listening in the first place but... 

 

“Then we have nothing to talk about,” Yoshimori began and Gen snapped to attention, “I told you already that I’m not going to do it.” 

 

“When are you going to stop being stubborn and listen? I’m trying to help you, you idiot. Your family is scrambling left and right trying to find someone to be the head priest for the Sumimura Clan and I have to hear my family’s constant gloating over the situation. You can really look good here and fix the problem by coming back and filling the role you that was meant for you.” 

 

“Meant for me? Yeah okay.” Yoshimori snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s still not my problem, they’ll find someone eventually. Probably more fitting than me. As you can see I got my hands full running a business here and I have no plans of abandoning it. My family can deal with not having me be their ‘protector of the shrine’.” 

 

Tokine suddenly sneered, offended by Yoshimori’s words. “You know there’s more to being a priest than that! Its an honour and privilege to serve our land and family, a lot of people would love to have such a title. Something that you’re clearly throwing away. And business?” She gave a harsh laugh, “Your brother is forced to pick up your slack while you run off from your responsibilities and play baker?” 

 

Yoshimori jerked at the mention of his brother, his posture stiffening. “What does this have to do with Masamori?” 

 

“Everything!” She yelled, “ He was called down to fill in your duties while your family tried to find a successor. Masamori has responsibilities of his own as the head CEO of his company Night troops, he doesn't need to be wasting his time like this. You need to stop messing around and come back.” 

 

“Messing around? You think I’m messing around?” He asked, anger seeping into his voice. But it was also tinged with something sadder, and Gen’s hand clenched. 

 

“I have responsibilities too! Here, as a baker. I’m not going to give up my dream just to appease my family. I will not come back until all of you get it in your head that I don’t want to be a priest. Besides, I think Masamori is happy fulfilling my duty instead of being a dumb CEO. So drop it, Tokine.” 

 

Tokine shook her head and sighed, her eyes filling with disappointment. “ Ugh, when are you going to stop being a child, Yoshimori? Masamori actually has a job of importance, he’s not the one deluding himself into thinking being a baker would accomplish anything. What good does your cooking and baking bring? I doubt they’re that great. So stop troubling everyone already and come home.” 

 

Yoshimori went quiet, turning his head away from her gaze. But Gen could still see it. He could see the hurt in the other’s eyes, the unshed tears, and the resignation on his pale face. Gen heard enough. 

 

His chair clattered to the floor by the force of his movement, his grip on his door like steel as he flung it open. It bang heavily on the side of his wall, the sound echoed around the empty seat, startling both Yoshimori and Tokine from their place by the bakery. He emerged slowly from his parlour, his eyes piercing her confused ones the moment he became visible. 

 

He stood motionless at his doorway, lips curled into a snarl, “Sorry about that, I heard bull shit coming from this girl’s mouth and it was starting to annoy me.” 

 

Tokine bristled at his words, meeting his stare with a cold glare, but Gen did not so much as flinch at her feeble attempts. He began to walk slowly towards the two, never breaking eye contact. 

 

“You talk as if you know what’s best for him, which I’m sure he can think for himself without your help. From what I gathered, you never ate any of the food he made before. So,” Gen seethed, now towering over Tokine’s nervous form, “What gave you the right to judge his skills? What gave you the right to dismiss his dream as nothing but childish? What gave you the right to talk as if what he’s doing is not important? Your arrogance is limitless…” 

 

He trapped her in his gaze, tearing down her pathetic front till she flinched back in fear. He opened his mouth, ready to tear into her even more, but Yoshimori’s hand flew between them and he stopped. “A-Ah, it’s okay Gen! She’s fine, no harm done. See?” 

 

He pointed at himself with a smile, and while it was a small one, it was genuine, and Gen felt his anger slip away. “Sorry Tokine but I have to close up. See you around?” 

 

Tokine nodded slowly, shooting Gen a nervous glance before she hurried off, leaving them alone in the empty street. Yoshimori dropped his head in his hand and sighed, exhausted. Gen looked at him, eyes still intense, but now with worry instead of anger. 

 

Yoshimori peeked up at him and grinned, “You know it’s not nice listening to other people’s conversations.” He laughed at Gen’s silence, reaching over and pulled at their sleeve. “Well come in, I guess I need to explain what you just heard.”

 

“I thought you were closing?” Gen asked in confusion, following the shorter man to the back of the bakery and into the kitchen. Assortments of ingredients lied on some of the tables, some in bowls and containers while others still in packaging. All the ovens were turned off except for one, its heat prominent in the room. 

 

“I am, but I still need to make the frosting and get the ingredients ready for tomorrow. Every pastry that leaves here has to be fresh you know!” He pointed towards an empty chair near the work table, laughing at the laid back way Gen chose to sit. 

 

He clipped his hair to the side once he finished tying a purple apron around his waist. He then pushed his sleeves back before he began pouring ingredients into a large mixing bowl. 

 

“My family are made up of solely priest and priestess, sharing sacred land with the Yukimura Clan, which is Tokine’s family.” Yoshimori started, mixing the ingredients slowly as he spoke. “We have this tradition where our grandparents choose who would be the successor of the Clan by feeling which person has the strongest spiritual sense. It’s honestly really stupid but they believed it, and I ended up being chosen. I was then put into ‘training’, reading textbooks and scrolls, maintaining the land and learning about my ancestors. It was not bad at first, learning about Karasumori was kind of fun, especially reading about ayakashi and yokai. My grandpa threw a fit when I called the demons cool.” 

 

Yoshimori chuckled at the memory, taking a pause to taste the frosting. He made a humming noise, turning around to grab a substance Gen didn’t know the name of and poured it to the bowl. He moved around the kitchen with a sense of grace Gen never seen before, used to the clumsy mess that caused havoc wherever he went. 

 

He was completely enraptured. 

 

“Then I learned that once I became the family, I was to serve the family and become the guardian of the shrine for the rest of my life, or until a new successor is born. And that idea...really scared me. I didn’t know why though.” Yoshimori continued, leaving the frosting alone to begin rolling some dough. 

 

“Then my elder brother got sick one day and nobody was home. My kid self didn’t know what to do so I tried making some soup for him, remembering my mother use to make it whenever I was sick. It was a disaster and a headache to clean up after. I ended up being scolded by both my brother and my family so I was sent to my room as punishment. But then Masamori, my brother, came up to my room and told me it was good. Something I did was good. I was so incredibly happy. I started paying attention whenever my parents cooked and I even joined the culinary club in junior high. I loved it, especially baking, people’s faces would light up when they ate my pastries and said I made their day. That’s when I realised why becoming a priest scared me. It wasn’t what I wanted, making food was. So I studied in secret, practicing in school and at friend’s houses, determined to become a baker and own my own bakery one day. I saved up my allowance and took part-time jobs around town -which my grandfather again threw a fit because it was breaking into my training time- I did this throughout my high school life, it was fun.  Then my family found out.” 

 

Yoshimori stopped rolling the dough and stared at his hands, a look of pain crossing his features. “They were furious. Told me I’ll be the embarrassment to the Sumimura name if I continued down this path. They asked why I couldn’t be like my elder brother and try to make them proud. We yelled at each other and I firmly refused the head title. The next day I was completely shunned, told me that I was a fool and that my dream will result in failure. They were disappointed in me, deemed me as a failure. So I took my savings, including my university money and I left. I jumped from place to place, friend after friend trying to stand back up on my feet. I worked odd jobs here and there till I was financially able to pay rent. And I took a gamble, I bought this place and drained everything I had to it.” 

 

Yoshimori dragged his finger across the table, his lips quirking to a small smile. “Best decision I ever made.” 

 

The room fell quiet, the only sound was the ingredients mixing in the mixing machine and the pounding of dough on the table. Gen felt fire burning in his stomach, a snarl on his lips at Yoshimori’s story. He kicked the table in anger, making Yoshimori look up at him. 

 

“They all sound like assholes.” 

 

Yoshimori laughed, shaking his head. “Not all of them. Tokine and Masamori are alright. And don’t give me that look,” he said at Gen’s incredulous stare. “They actually are. Tokine was bought up just like me, except her training was much more strict and vigorous. And unlike me, she believes in those teaching. Becoming a priestess is what she wants. So she doesn’t understand why I don’t. And Masamori is not at fault for me being compared to him. I’m actually happy for him, he always wanted to be a priest but our family denied him that chance because of me. He never wanted to be a ceo or work at company, I could tell, but he probably thought that it was the only thing he could do. I truly hope that the Sumimura Clan would let go of their stupid traditions and see what a great priest they already have.” 

 

Yoshimori looked down at his hands again, his eyes glazing over in thought. Then he laughed, a weak inaudible laugh, and it broke Gen’s heart. 

 

“But you know, it kind of hurts that the people I care about have no faith me. They never gave me a chance, never tried to accept my choices. It’s only disappointment and shame. I want to try and understand, even if it's only Tokine. Just someone, anyone…” He trailed off in a whisper, and all movement in the kitchen stilled. 

 

The whirling of the mixer faded away and the oven’s heat no longer felt overbearing. Gen felt lost. He didn’t know how to comfort anyone or how to deal with another person’s feelings. Gen kind of understood what Yoshimori felt. The people around him also deemed him as a failure and accident waiting to happen. They never tried to understand him either. 

 

But then he realised he couldn’t understand completely, because while his life was kind of fucked up, he actually had people that believed in him. His sister Ryu and his mentor Hiroshima, the only people whose opinion ever mattered to him. It was because of them that he found the courage to pursue his dream, their encouragement that he took that chance. Yoshimori did it on his own, with the people he cared about trying to tear him down. 

 

Yoshimori had no one. 

 

The rage that bubbled inside was blinding, it spilled out him in waves, startling Yoshimori when he stood up suddenly. He flinched when Gen’s hands gripped his shoulders and turned him around until they were facing each other and he stared into piercing molten eyes. 

 

“Screw them, screw all of them. You don’t need their nasty opinions.” Gen growled, “It took a lot of guts on what you did and I’ve seen your passion. You’re not the careless fool I once thought you were, you love to bake and you love this community, despite its bad reputation and despite how long you’ve been here. Your dreams and passion mean something.” 

 

He pulled their faces close and Yoshimori held his breath. “If no one is going to believe in you then I would be in their place. Because despite hardly knowing you and getting off on the wrong foot, I one hundred percent, believe in you.” He panted softly, his voice echoing in the silent kitchen. 

 

Yoshimori’s eyes were wide and glossy, tears built up in the corner of his eyelashes until they slid down his cheek. 

 

Gen panicked at seeing them fall and he let go, holding his arms high as he backed away. “Oh fuck, I said something weird didn’t I? Shit, I didn’t mean to sound like a creep. I did over hear your conversation and -fuck- sor-” His rambling broke off at the sound of Yoshimori laughing, soft and light, but beautiful all the same. 

 

“Pfft N-No you’re okay.” He wiped his tears away with the sleeves of his shirt and smiled. The brightest and purest smile Gen has ever seen. “Thank you, Gen.” 

 

Yoshimori reached out and bumped his fist on Gen’s shoulder. “I guess you’re not much of a bastard as I thought.” 

 

They both laughed, Gen’s chuckles rumbling in his chest. It’s been a long time since he laughed like this. But now, with Yoshimori smiling as he continued to bake, he wanted it to be a recurring thing. 

 

He wanted it so bad.

  
  


OoOoOoOoOoOo

  
  


Weeks turned to months, and months turned to a full year. A full year since Gen met Yoshimori. It was a blessing. A roller-coaster of emotions. He was able to get to know Yoshimori a lot more (in a less creepy way now that they actually hang out now), which was also a blessing. But…

 

“...Just fucking kill me.” He groaned in a couch cushion, his sisters loud laughter mocking him in the background. 

 

“I don’t think the universe is that kind, dear brother.” 

 

Gen was currently in his sister’s apartment for a visit, but he instead ended up crashing on her couch and groaning loudly in despair, praying for death. 

 

“I’m so fucked, I’m so fucked, I’m so fucked, I’m so-” He chanted, muffled from cushion plastered on his face. 

 

Ryu sat besides in amusement, stirring a cup of tea gently before she took a small sip. “You’re being pathetic Gen.” She said simply, and he groaned louder in response. “Just ask the cutie out if he’s that amazing. He has to be if he’s got you this sissy. I honestly thought you weren’t into anyone.” 

 

“Sis…” Gen mumbled. 

 

“In fact, Hanashima sensei and I were betting whether or not you were Aromantic or Asexual haha! I guess we both owe each other money now-” 

 

“Ryu…!” Gen growled out and Ryu hummed happily in response. “Yes, dear brother?” 

 

“You’re not helping.” 

 

She chuckled at his pathetic tone. “I’m surprised that you thought I would be. Though I already did tell you what I thought.” 

 

She watches her brother’s miserable form for a while, shaking her head at his cluelessness of love. With love, she grabbed his head and lifted his body up in the air, before smacking his head hard on the couch arm rest. He jerked up in shock and clutched his head, hissing from the pain. 

 

He shot her a look of betrayal and she shrugged, “You’re just here moping around and I won’t have that. Now get out their and figure out you own solution since mine are ‘so terrible’.” 

 

She leaned down and stroked his head in an apology, giggling at his reluctant face. “It’ll be fine Gen. You’ll see. Good luck!” 

 

He leaves the apartment with a dejected face, crossing his arms in thought the whole way back to his parlour (scaring random passerbyers from his intense stare). He stares blankly at his hands, his frustrations growing every second. 

 

The bad thing about getting to know Yoshimori was that the guy actually turned out to be incredibly endearing, both inside and out. He’s cute, funny, loud and occasionally full of himself, selfless, and saw Gen as his equal. They fought at times, especially about silly topics, but it always harmless banter and they’ll end up laughing at the end. It was not fair for him to be so endearing. 

 

Over the year his crush grew exceptionally and he really doesn’t know what to do with himself. He never had a crush on anyone before. He didn’t know what do or how to act or if he should do anything about it. It was more annoying than anything else. How does he, like, stop feeling? Is he able to do that? 

 

He grumbled to himself, his fingers twitching from nerves. He’s itching to draw his frustrations away, to get his mind off such pesky thoughts. He reached under his personal desk and pulled a tattered but well taken cared sketch book, filled to the brim with loose pages and random doodles. 

 

He flicked open the book and tried to find a blank page to draw, but he couldn’t find one. All the pages were used up. Gen flipped through all the pages and stilled, his eyes softening at the realisation. They were filled with nothing but Yoshimori. Different poses, facial expressions, colours and mediums; Yoshimori, Yoshimori, Yoshimori. 

 

He’s really fucked, huh? 

 

He breathed deeply, holding the sketchbook to his chest tightly. He may not be good with feelings, but there is one thing he’s definitely good at. 

 

The Kekkaishi signed gleamed from the sun’s rays and Gen took a moment to appreciate it, calming his thoughts if only for a moment. He took a deep breath and gripped on the bakery’s door. With all his strength he flung it open, the familiar bang of door reached his ears combined with multiple people gasping in shock. 

 

Yoshimori stared incredulously from the head counter, a wrapped box of pastries falling from his hands. 

 

“Yoshimori, I need to talk to you. It’s important.” Gen said simply, ignoring the growing people’s curious stares. 

 

Yoshimori hesitantly jumped over the counter and jogged up to meet Gen at the entrance. “What’s so important that you had to break my door and disturb my customers?” He asked curiously, but it dripped with warning if whatever Gen wanted to say was un-important. 

 

Gen didn’t say anything, he merely shoved his sketchbook at the other’s chest, the force making Yoshimori step back. “Whaa-!” 

 

“I might be fucking up everything here and I’ll understand if you feel uncomfortable but, just, just look at it. Please.” 

 

Yoshimori furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, lifting the sketchbook up to his face to see the cover. It was all black, with Gen sigils scrawled at the bottom. With delicate fingers he turned the page and looked. The first couple pages were drawings of animals and plant life, obviously tattoo ideas, all in different styles and colours. 

 

They were beautiful and Yoshimori felt the need to gush over them. But he held his tongue and continued to flip, knowing that Gen wanted him to see all of it. The tattoo ideas lessened and lessened with each turn of the page, now containing random sketches of hands, hair, and eyes. The sketches were roughly drawn, as if Gen was practicing on drawing a specific thing. The next page was completely blank. He blinked in confusion, turning the next page curiously. And he gasped. 

 

His own face was staring back at him, a neutral expression with his spiky hair all over the place. He ran his finger across the picture, his finger darkening from the lose graphite. 

 

“This is…” 

 

He flickered to the next picture and it was him again but with a smile. Each picture after that was him doing something different. Some was him baking and managing the bakery, others with him talking with his customers and goofing around. Some where  he was sitting staring up in space and others where he was just standing in the street next to the bakery. The drawings were endless. 

 

Gen watched as Yoshimori’s face turned redder and redder with each new drawing, stammering un-cooly with wide brown eyes (and he groans in despair when he finds even that endearing). 

 

“I know it's creepy,” Gen muttered, and Yoshimori finally looked up at him. “But I couldn't stop myself from drawing you. You were all that I think about most of the time. The truth is that I really like you, god knows why since you're a massive idiot who's way too excitable. But I do. I really do. It's okay if you don't feel the same way, I'm happy being your friend if that's what you want. Although I really hope you give me a chance.” He finished his sentence in a whisper, feeling his ears burn at the confession. 

 

He could hear people murmuring in the background and he winced, he was hoping to do this more privately but he couldn't stop himself. Yoshimori clutched the sketchbook to his chest, cheeks bright red and looking everywhere else besides Gen.

 

“...kay.” 

 

Gen felt his heart jump. “What did you say?”

 

Yoshimori nodded his head, clenching his eyes, “Yes, I'll go out with you, you idiot!” 

 

The crowd cheers in the background, clapping loudly while Yoshimori screams at them to shut up. Gen smiled widely. He could do this, he could do this.

 

-

 

He can't do this, why did he think he could do this?! Gen rummaged through his closet, throwing clothes left and right onto his bed trying to find something to wear that wasn’t a band tee-shirt. 

 

Ryo sat on the non-coated bedside, laughing at her brother’s antics. “Gen, you're acting like a love sick girl. It's only a coffee date, it's not like you’re asking him to marry you. Wear that purple shirt, it will bring out your eyes.” 

 

Gen made a noise she never heard before and she threw her head back in laughter. “Ohh, I’m so glad I was able to see you on your first date. Oh, I should call Hanashima sensei and tell her all about it!” 

 

“Don’t you dare!” He threatened from the depths of his closet, peeking out to glare at her, but it only spiraled her to another laughing fit at seeing him drowning in clothing. 

 

She helped him out and pulled out more casual clothing, throwing the purple shirt on his face with a smirk. His face was really scary at that moment, eyes narrowed into slits and mouth pinched into a scowl, but she knew better. He was probably psyching himself out too much, worrying about how the date will go. It was their first date after all and he wanted it to go well. 

 

She ruffled his hair, dodging his swipe of his hand and taking it into her own “I can hear your internal screaming from here. Breathe.” 

 

He breathed slowly through his nose and she nodded in approval. “You have nothing to worry about! If he is as great as you say then the date will be a breeze. Remember to be your grumpy self and everything will be go smoothly.” 

 

His scowl deepend but he squeezed her hand in response and she knew he heard her loud and clear. He left her apartment in a hurry, waving goodbye and begrudgingly promised to tell her all about it after it’s over. The date was at a simple cafe near the tattoo parlour, just two blocks away from their street. It was quiet and warm, filled with an assortment of houseplants and flowery decor. Thankfully the centerpieces on the tables were fake otherwise he’d probably have a sneezing fit, he’s not even allergic and yet the things like to tickle his nose (And wouldn’t that be a sight, Yoshimori walking in while Gen’s dripping with snot and red in the nose). 

 

It was comfy and while a little crowded it wasn’t stifling either so he was sure he and Yoshimori would be able to talk without needing to shout at one another. He walked through the doors in a haste, looking around the cafe through the sea of faces. Yoshimori was already there, sitting at a table near the back with his head in his hand. Gen felt his lips curl at seeing him, thumping his knuckle on their forehead before sliding into the chair. 

 

Yoshimori yelped, rubbing is forehead in surprise. “Oh, Gen, Hey!” 

 

“Hey. You weren’t waiting long?” 

 

“Nope just got here. To be honest I’m surprised that I got here first.” 

 

Gen snorted, “Yeah, Mr. I’m late to opening my own shop.” 

 

“That only happened one time!” Yoshimori said, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. “So what are you going to get, I usually would get something fruity but I’m super sugar loaded at the moment so I think tea is good enough for me.” 

 

Gen wasn’t surprise, being surrounded by sweets twenty-four seven must take its toll. “I need some coffee in my system. I need it dark and bitter, like me.” 

 

Yoshimori threw his head back in laughter and Gen felt his nervousness slip away at the sound. They settled into their seats and ordered their drinks (Yoshimori snorting when Gen actually did order black coffee), and then they talked. 

 

They talked and talked, telling stories of their youths and silly stories. Yoshimori was very animated when he spoke, Gen noted, watching his hands fly around and his facial features change in sync with his words. He was vocal as well, some of the inhabitants of the cafe turning around and listening to the exaggerated story with amusement. 

 

Gen should have felt felt embarrassed with all the attention they were getting, but he didn’t care. He was completely enraptured in his story, feeling fondness bloom inside his chest seeing the idiot laugh at his own jokes even if they weren’t particularly funny. He was the complete opposite of Gen, both in personality and in behaviour, but he liked it. 

 

He once would have dislike feeling confused and lost, not knowing what to do because of one person. But if that person is Yoshimori, then he would gladly accept these new feelings, the good and the bad. 

 

Then someone else snorted near their table, unnecessarily loud and cruel. Yoshimori quieted and turned to the new comer. Gen’s mood soured. He turned in his chair to glare at the fool who dared to interrupt them. The person was a tall man with spiky coloured hair and face full of tacky piercings, lips curled in twisted smile. 

 

Gen immediately growled lowly in his throat. He recognised this person. They were a wanna-be delinquent at his school once upon a time, hanging around Gen like a leech challenging him left and right on who is the most hardcore person in town. Gen didn’t care for such a stupid title but that didn’t stop him from beating the shit out of him out of annoyance. Of course that made the guy resent him even more and he tried to pick a fight with Gen every chance he got. He even helped with spreading unsettling rumours that furthered dragged Gen’s already impeccable reputation. 

 

The guy was the last the person he saw before he quit school and pursued his career in tattooing. Luckily, while still being a pain in the neck, the guy at least had enough common sense not to start a fight in a public area. But Gen knew that wouldn’t stop him from trying. 

 

The punk leaned against their chair and leered at the two, “Well, if it isn’t my old friend! You look exactly the same from high school, except with a few tattoos here and there. That’s annoying. The guy in front of ya is new though, figures you’ll be a fruit cake. Priceless!” His cackle was throaty and displeasing. 

 

Yoshimori raised an unimpressed eyebrow, casting Gen a questioning look. Gen merely turned forward and motioned him to ignore the fool, taking a sip from his coffee with closed eyes. It worked for a few seconds, the punk frowning at the two when they didn’t talk back. But then he pulled his chair to their table and slammed his hand on the table. 

 

“You know!” He exclaimed, focusing his attentions on an unsuspecting Yoshimori, “You should dump the guy while you still have a chance, he’s a real playah”  He threw an arm around Yoshimori like they were old friends, pulling him forward till their lips were near his ear. “Never took any of his relationships seriously, only using them to get a cheap thrill for he threw them away.” 

 

Gen felt his face redden in anger, slamming both his hands on the table. “I never did that!” He seethed, baring his teeth at the smirking man. 

 

“But you did cause a lot of trouble, thought you were top dog and didn’t give a shit about anyone. Defacing public property, fighting with just about everyone; oh no you were definitely the school’s star pupil, weren’t ya?” The guy challenged back, the cruel grin back on his face. 

 

Gen’s glare hardened. No matter how much he wanted to argue the things he said were sadly true. He didn’t care about anything and attacked almost anyone if they so much as looked at him wrong. He was so angry with the world, so angry with his family and his own shitty attitude. He thought he was in the right to hate everyone. It was honestly shameful. Maybe, Gen thought, maybe he was right. Yoshimori should find someone better than him, someone more deserving to be surrounded by so much light. 

 

Gen felt the fight leave his body and the guy must have noticed because the damn smirk appeared on his face. Damn, he wanted to punch the asshole in the face. But then he would be proving their point, wouldn’t he? 

 

"You see? Why would ya want to be with such a terrible person? Aren’t I good for warning ya off such a lowli-” His words trailed off into a howl of pain as his body hit the floor with a thud. 

 

He rubbed at his cheek with wide eyes, words jumbled with shock, “D-D-Did you just kick me?!”

 

Yoshimori towered over the guy with menacing eyes, foot still raised in the air where the guy once sat. “Shut up will ya? Your voice is getting on my nerves, it’s annoying to hear you yammering on and on.” 

 

In a flash he leaned over and grabbed the fool by the collar, lifting him until their nose touched. “But I do want to hear an apology from this damn mouth. What gives you the right to say such things huh? C’mon hurry up and say you’re sorry to Gen.” 

 

The man spluttered, struggling from the surprisingly strong grip. They bared their teeth, “I-I’m not gonna apologise for shit!” 

 

Yoshimori’s eyes darkened and Gen decided that it was enough. He quickly got up, chair clattering to the floor, and grabbed Yoshimori’s shoulder. “Its fine, I don’t need an apology from scum. He’s not worth getting worked up over.” 

 

“But Gen!” Yoshimori protested, turning his attentions to him. 

 

The distraction gave the fool an opening and he took it, breaking Yoshimori’s hold and scrambling out the cafe. Yoshimori cursed under his breath, calling the man a coward for fleeing. The occupants in the room were silent, watching the two with curiosity. 

 

Gen didn’t know what to do. He wanted to reassure Yoshimori, he wanted to yell at everyone to mind their own business, and he desperately wanted to salvage the ruined date. 

 

But he didn’t get to do anything because Yoshimori suddenly took his hand, slammed money on the table, and marched out the cafe, yelling out an apology to the workers and other customers for their rudeness. The walk was fast paced, anger radiating off of Yoshimori like waves. 

 

“Who the hell does he think he is talking about you like that?” He ranted, dragging Gen across the street and nearing the local park. 

 

His words were biting towards the other man and Gen couldn’t help but feel confused, “It’s alright Yoshimori, some of it was kind of true.” 

 

“That doesn't matter, he shouldn’t say that in the first place! He only said it to spite you, that asshole.”

 

“...It doesn’t bother you?” Gen asks in surprise, his words barely above a whisper. 

 

Yoshimori stopped and Gen followed, dropping their connected hands as the other turned to him. “Why would it? You don’t do any of those things anymore right? I know you’re trying your best, I see all the time, seeing as I’m your neighbour. You obviously love your work and you never do anything half-assed. Everyone respects you. I know that you’re a good person so hearing those dumb things from that guy’s mouth is ridiculous. You should have made him apologise.” 

 

His words were sincere, Gen knew that, but that didn’t stop the bitterness building up inside him. He chuckled dryly, calming his hand through his hair. “That doesn’t change the fact that I was a shitty person. All the things I did and the reasons for them are so laughable, incredibly pathetic. I can’t stop from feeling disappointed and disgusted every time I think back to it. I was undeniably worthless, even if I changed a little. Do you really want that?” 

 

Yoshimori stilled, an audible hitch in his breathing. His face was pained, eyes glistening with unshed tears and Gen felt panic bubble up replacing the bitterness. Oh god, he messed up. 

 

He hesitantly reached out to touch his shoulder, if only to try to cheer him up. But instead his hand was snatched away into Yoshimori’s grip, forcing him to look at him. 

 

“Stop picking on little Gen!” He yelled, taking Gen’s other hand into his own until he had both of them, lacing their fingers together in a warm embrace. 

 

“The Gen from that time didn't know any better, he was lost in a sea of self doubt, constantly fighting to keep himself afloat. Yes, he did terrible things, but he was learning! He did not know what you know now, so why look down on the Gen who struggled over finding himself, got back up after every mistake, and took his life into his own hands when everyone else decide his fate for him? I admire him, even with all those mistakes and regrets. I like little Gen. Because in the end, he grows up to be you.” 

 

He squeezed their hands, and Gen was enveloped with a comforting warmth he only ever felt when he holds Yoshimori’s hand. “And I really, really like this Gen.” 

 

For the first time ever, he knew he could believe someone that wasn’t his sister or his mentor. Yoshimori was right, that person grew up to become him. If it wasn’t for that Gen’s hardship, he wouldn’t have found the courage to find comfort with the people he cared about. 

 

He let go of Yoshimori hands and placed his own above his waist where his first tattoo lied. A dark blue flame that wrapped around his body and flowed to his arms. They were once a symbol of restraint, limitation. He was afraid of what he could do, and what he would do if given the chance. But now he realised that it’s a reminder, not of hate or shackles of his younger self, but of who he was and what he overcame. 

 

He could be proud of this tattoo. 

 

He could be proud of himself. 

 

“Thank you.” He whispers. “I think little Gen appreciates you defending him.” 

 

Yoshimori laughed, wiping away tears from his red cheeks. “I wouldn’t have had to if his older self wasn’t being an idiot.” He grinned, eyes bright and sparkling. “Great date, huh?” 

 

Gen chuckled, taking Yoshimori’s hand into his own. 

 

Where it belongs. 

 

“Yeah, the best. And the next one will be better. And the next one, and the next one. There will be plenty more chances, because I don’t plan on letting go of this hand again.” 

 

Yoshimori smiled, leaning forward to place a tender kiss on his cheek. “That’s a promise?” 

 

“A promise.”

  
  


OoOoOoOoOoOo

  
  


“Hold still please, I’m almost finished. You’re doing well.” Gen spoke calmly, the needle vibrating comfortably on his fingers as he inked the final layering of his client’s tattoo. It was an afternoon appointment, just near closing time so Gen was ready to call it a day. The whirling of the machine and his client’s elaborate breathing didn't deter his focus as he finished the final touches. 

 

“Annnd, we’re finished. Go ahead and have a look in that mirror in the corner.” He said, wiping down the tattoo before moving out the way so the client can get up. 

 

They did so with a yell of excitement, pulling their arm forward to examine the work. “Ah this is amazing! Better than I imagined, thank yo-” Their words cut off to a scream when suddenly a door flew open, banging the wall and rattling the paintings that hung on it. 

 

“Yo Gen! Just finished baking these bad boys and I want you to tried them.” Yoshimori called out, closing the new door that now connected the two buildings. 

 

Gen sighed exasperatedly, shooting his boyfriend heated, but amused glare. “I thought I told you not to bang the door when you come here, it could have been bad if I didn't finish early.” 

 

Yoshimori mouth shaped to an ‘o’, offering the client a sincere apology of waved them off with a smile. “Sorry about that, but I was in a hurry to give you these pastries before I close up. Madarao needs to be taken out for a walk and I still need to wrap up the other goods for sister-Ryo” 

 

‘Madarao’ was Yoshimori’s dog who he decided to bring along during his work at the bakery after he realised the fella must have felt lonely being left at home for a long time (Madarao would bite at Yoshimori’s ankle whenever he says that, as if denying such claims). He was a large dog, with pure white fur and mischievous green eyes. He made Gen uneasy the first time he met him, eyeing him up and down as if he was fresh meat. 

 

“Are you sure he isn't a wolf? Dogs don't get that big…” He whispered to Yoshimori, putting away his tools before looking at the enormous dog in suspicion, feeling himself sweat when they flashed him a very wolfish grin. 

 

Yoshimori merely laughed in response, handing Gen the plate of sweets. “Yeah I'm sure, he just eats a lot.” 

 

Madarao growled lowly as if he understood that he was being insulted and Yoshimori put up his hands up with a giggle. Gen rolled his eyes at the antics, shoving a brownie into his mouth without a second thought. He paused after the flavor hit his tongue and his eyebrows shot up in surprised. 

 

“It's...really good.” 

 

Yoshimori beamed, “Well it should! I made it specifically for you, Mr. I-hate-sweets. I had to find different ingredients to get the recipe correctly without using sugar.” He pumped his fist in the air, cheeks flushed a light pink. “Finally I made a sweet you liked, I'm so glad!” 

 

Gen let out a laugh, “Idiot, I already liked everything you make.” 

 

He leaned down and kissed his giggly boyfriend, touched that they made a recipe from scratch just for him. The kiss was short and sweet, lingering only a little bit before Yoshimori broke it with a gasp. “Wait, stop distracting me. I have to get everything done before I close up!” 

 

“What's got you in a hurry anyways?” He asked as he watched Yoshimori nearly tripping over Madarao’s leash in his haste. 

 

Yoshimori paused from their shared doorway and looked back at him with a smile. “I'm visiting my family’s house to celebrate Masamori becoming the legitimate successor to the Sumimura Clan. Which technically means I've been disowned but hey! Masamori deserves it. After that Tokine, Masamori, and I are going to have our own celebration. I'm bringing the sweets.” 

 

His brown eyes softened, shimmering brightly and pure. “Masamori gave me his support and Tokine is coming around, slowly yeah, but she's trying. And that's all I ask for.” 

 

Gen smile softened and he pulled him into another kiss, lacing their hands together and squeezed gently. “Aright have fun, try not to get your family more crossed than they already are.” 

 

Yoshimori pulled back with a laugh, lips curling into a cheeky grin “No promises.” 

 

With one last squeezed, he let go and rushed out the door, Madarao easily following behind. Gen watched him go with a fond smile, hoping for the best for his happy boyfriend. 

 

“That was the cutest thing I ever seen.” His client whistled and Gen whipped around in shock, forgetting that they were still there. 

 

“How long have you guys been together?” They asked with an easy smile, settling back down into the chair so Gen can finished off cleaning the tattoo. 

 

“Two years.” He replied, wrapping the protective plastic around their arm and over the tattoo. 

 

“Wow, how'd you manage that?” 

 

Gen snorted, deciding to humour the person. “Who knows? I still can't believe he even said to dating me.” 

 

His eyes glanced behind at his personal desk where a picture of Yoshimori lied, a small black box tucked away beneath it. 

 

“Here's hoping he makes the same mistake twice.”

**Author's Note:**

> Did all of you get that that Hand holding was a constant thing to these guys? -And that Yoshimori liked to kick people- Thank you so much for reading and I hope that it was worth your time. Please take a break and stretch, breathe. You must have sat there for a while reading this so please take care ^^ Till next time, thank you for reading!


End file.
